Lost muse
by Negai-san
Summary: After Ishvara war, Flame alchemist Roy Mustang retired to become a professional artist , but when he loses his inspiration, will there be a muse to lift him from the ocean of despair? eventually RoyEdo
1. Obliviously Obvious

Lost muse

After Ishvara war, now 28 years old Roy Mustang retired to become a professional artist , but when he loses his inspiration, will there be a muse to lift him from the ocean of despair?

Hello people and all the other life forms! nn This is my first fic that I have ever posted so please, don't flame me. If you don't like the fic you can say it, but please tell me WHY you didn't like it, it helps me to improve. The pairing will be RoyxEd which means it's shounen-ai. Slash. If ya don't like that kind of stuff don't read it. Simple, and makes everyones lives so much easier.

Most sincerely yours,

Negai

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Chapter one: Obliviously obvious

"I don't get it" The dark haired man whispered in his empty atelier. " …Why me? Why now?"

He slumped heavily back on his ebony chair, leaning his raven head to his hands. The room was lighted with only candles and the dark red colored curtains had been drawn to cover all the windows. Walls were bare and there was not many furniture, only few chairs, an old cough and paintings. A lots of paintings and color tubes, brushes scattered around the apartment, as if someone had taken out his frustration on them.

Roy Mustang, artist that had just few years ago been the rising star on the world of art, was now desperately trying to make up to his reputation.

Not that he hadn't been as good as the critics said, he had been–and still was- a talented artist, but now… As he had seen happened to many other artists, he had, if you wanted to say it bluntly, lost his inspiration.

When he had started as a an artist, it had began as a therapy. He had been working in the military for about ten years, and just in his third year the civil war had broken.

He had been used as a human weapon, alongside all the other state alchemists. Flame alchemist Roy Mustang. People thought him as a hero that had helped their country win against the isvaran.

But to him it wasn't like that. He was no hero, he was a villain.

Roy couldn't –nor did he want to- recall how many innocent had he killed under orders then. Thousands of innocent, children, women and men that had nothing to do with the whole scuffle. He had just burnt down the cities and citizens with them. Why? 'Cause those were the orders.

If he had then hated himself, after that he had totally loathed himself.

What had broken at the time fragile bridge of his sanity had been that that he had been told to kill two doctors, a couple that had been tending every injured that arrived on their "doorstep." Enemy or friend, it didn't matter to them.

Mustang and them had become friends, he had met them on the train to the battlefield. The Rockbells, which was their surname, were admirable people. He had looked up to them then and still did.

The ghosts of the war had began to affect his daily life so much, that his best friend , Maes Hughes, had anything but kindly suggested him to seek help. Not even weeks of bickering and nor a non-stop picture shows of Hughes's daughter Elysia, had knocked sense to him.

Being a stubborn mule he always was, Mustang had tried to ignore him, attempting to convince everyone that he was just fine. Few weeks went by just like that. All his friends from the military had bought that that he had recovered. All expect Hughes.

He noticed that Mustang was off from the work more than he had ever been. Maes knew his friend was workaholic, fighting to rise on the ranks as fast as he could, so there was no way he'd believe that. And Roys trademark smirk had disappeared, with itself should ring alarm clocks in everyones heads. All the fake smiles that Mustang had used to calm down his co-workers didn't calm Hughes down at all, on the contrary.

His suspicions were confirmed when all his phone calls went to the phones answerer and he went to see Roy.

The door had been locked, but as the head of information gathering unit he let no valuable piece of information could pass by. Not at least something like where his best friend kept his spare key.

So after he had snatched the key (that was in a place, oh so individual as under the carpet) and opened the door, a horrid scene met his eyes.

Roy Mustang, tears brimming in his weary onyx eyes covered with messy raven hair, standing in his once tidy living room with a gun on his hand. Pointed shakily at his own head.

Hughes half spoken and half beat the Flame alchemist out of it, managing to keep his friend from slipping over the edge.

After that, Roy finally gave in.

Maes had phoned the military psychiatrist, Mr Ho, that same day and told him how things were. Ho had just sighed, noted that "It was about the time" and said that Maes should take care of him at least until tomorrow. So he did, and would have done without a request. He wasn't going to lose his friend any time soon.

After that night things started to get better. Though the first therapy sitting didn't go well, Roys depression was too deep to recover that easily, it shoved Mustang a little bit more to the brighter side.

One day, about a half an year later, Maes came to pick up Roy from Mr Ho's, he couldn't believe his eyes.

Mustang was sitting on the doorstep with a large plastic bag on his left side and a large, long packet on his lap. And he was smiling slightly, yet sincerely.

Hughes had stared his jaw eloquently hanging open as Mustang had rose his dark eyes to him, gotten up, picked up his stuff and walked to the car almost grinning. He had opened the backbench door, shoved his stuffs there and plopped then himself next to them almost grinning.

"What's with the idiotic face Maes? Is there something on my face?" He had beamed. " Look, we went shopping with Waer (1), know what it is?" Roy shoved the packet on his hand.

After examining the packet for a while, Hughes gave it back smiling slightly at his friends newfound enthusiasm. " It's a… painting stand?" "Yes!" Roy exclaimed.

"About a month ago, Mr Ho suggested that we'd test the paint therapy. At first I was cynical about if it would work, but actually that was the best thing that he has ever suggested to me." He opened the car door, shoved his stuffs inside and plopped himself with them on the back bench "It opened a whole new world for me."

Maes looked at his friend in awe from the front seat. Mustang didn't get this excited easily (if it wasn't for the promotion or miniskirts) and hadn't been this happy for so long time that he didn't even want to remember.

A month or so after that, Roy Mustang held a party that worked as an art exhibition as well as a welcome party to the old Mustang. All his dearest friends came to his mansion like home to congratulate him.

Later that night, Mustang had requested for silence, 'cause he had something important to say. None of them had seen coming what Roy was going to tell them, everyone had waited for a lecture of why all women should wear miniskirt or how he was now going to work harder to become a Fuhrer, not this.

Roy had told them that he was going to resign from the military and find a way to interfere from behind the curtains. He said that he didn't accept what military's leader characters were doing, and wanted nothing to do with them anymore.

At the point all of his friends had started to protest at the same time, but he silenced them with so little as risen hand and a determined "Let me finish".

He had stated it was true that the best way to get to the top was to keep stumbling forward the Fuhrers post, but he also pointed out that losing the oh-so-cherished Flame alchemist would damage military's ego and the people would maybe start to lose their already fragile faith in military.

Then those people would start to seek for different leader, someone who wouldn't lead the country with just weapons, but their head. "And you mean that's where you come to the picture from behind the curtains?" Hawkeye, blonde lieutenant Hawkeye then noted.

Mustang had smirked and nodded. " Yes. Before that I'll keep lower profile, yet not too low. People have to know me when the time comes… So, few of you know I have started to paint, hmm?" Nods all around.

"Few of critics have been interested in my work, I have talked on phone with many of them and I will send them some of my newer works. Central times and many other newspapers and magazines are going to publish criticism of my art on them. They'll hopefully make me known as a painter that has gone through all the hell as I have, as someone who doesn't want that to be repeated on anyone else. Someone who doesn't approve military's ways of doing things…"

"But how can you be sure you won't be harmed, assassinate or something, by the military's leaders from getting them in the "bad side" of people? You know it wouldn't be the first time." Hughes asked, worried for his friend.

" You listened to me right? I have sent my works, not asked them to come here as normally is done. I have changed my voice in the phone everytime, and they came up with a nickname that fits. Though it's kind of revealing, no one can proof it's me." He shrugged. " And I can defend myself it depends on that. I will move away too, to some more quieter and remote area – maybe to outskirts of central. I'll keep 'living' on this house too, I'm rich enough to afford it easily" He smirked at Havoc who rolled his eyes " I'll visit here once in a while, and my trustworthy butler will keep the house in a condition that won't give my secret away. If there will be someone to ask where I'm, he can easily say I'm on a date or something. If someone will want to stay there and wait for my return, he can just call me and I'll be there soon."

"So… what's that name you go by?" Asked Breda, looking rather nervous about the big plan. It would affect to their life too. When colonel wouldn't be around, they would be placed under someone else.

" Flame artist." Roy said simply. Everyone gaped in choir.

"That is way too revealing!" "It's impossible for them to not notice the connection." " Mustang, are you insane?" " What do we have for food tomorrow?" "There is no way they'll buy that." " Actually, it has a kind of nice ring innit." Havoc noted.

Everyone turned to stare at him, their mouths hanging open. "What?" He puffed frustratedly. "I just said how I felt like sayin'. Someone gotta somethin' against that?" Yes would have been an truthful answer, but before anyone had time to say anything Mustang spoke up again.

"Not actually. You see-" Everyone glared at him (expect for Havoc who was lighting his cigarette), but he ignored them "It makes sense when you have seen my work. There is fire in every work, 'cause they are my memories of the vileness of war, of what… happened there." He swallowed and looked proudly at his friends. "Of course no details of it's grossness, but I hope the color scale and the mood of my paintings tells enough."

"It does." Maes stated, his tone leaving no doubt of his opinion.

"Maybe it is too daring, but you have to take big risks to get even little happen. And plus to this, I will be doing different kinds of other things to get the Fuhrer down from his throne." He smiled predatorily. " Will you be with me?"

"Of course." Came the automatic, yet meant answer, to his question. They were his friends, they approved his way of thinking and he was a born leader with a vision burnt in his mind so heatedly, that you could still see the flame shine from his eyes. The determination gave his comrades hope and strenght to press on when they felt like nothing that they did helped.

They believed him, they always would trust him. And his plans, how strange or with fire playing would it be, they knew he could handle it. After this they had all called it a day and left home, with a new born excitement rising it's head in their hearts.

Tomorrow had been a day that would be remembered in Amestris for a long, long time. Like a lighting from a clear sky, had the Flame alchemist, colonel Roy Mustang resigned from his post without a warning. Fuhrer suspiciously signed the resigning papers, cause he had no choice. It wouldn't have passed the public knowledge if he wouldn't have had let Flame go.

The day after that, it was on every magazines front page. Many tried to get a interview from Mustang who politely declined the pleas, saying " It is not time for that yet. Let's just say that I don't want to be in any contact with military anymore." That bore even more questions.

In the next weeks, and even months they presented thousands of different theories of why had he resigned. Some thought that Roy Mustang, the womaniser, had finally settled down with someone who didn't like the military and had forced him resign (this rose very many scuffles around the Amestris) and some that he had gotten fed up of staring straightly at the Fuhrers ugly face and finally spat on it. (" Oh, I should have done that " Roy once joked, but when Riza pointed her gun meaningfully for that he gulped and said "Or maybe not.")

From that on the things had rolled on their own weight, many people that had been on the side of military had started to doubt it's ways and the once that had already hated military –for one reason or another- were now openly loathing it. Especially the women.

Roys plan had had a better effect than he had even dared to wish.

That had been few years ago.

Now the things had quieted down a little, but his little coups through the years and many other things had grown steady roots of doubt in the hearts of people.

His art had became known to tha public and the critics had praised the works of the great "Flame artist" through the years.

Few times had Fuhrer or some other high ranking tried to catch him from making those paintings, sometimes it had been quite close too, yet none had

succeed. Mustang had always been few steps ahead of them. Once they had even raided his mansion, hoping to find something that would proof that he was the

artist that had been spitting on the military's face for so long.

Of course Roy and his gang had been waiting for this. Maes had managed attach a tapper on Fuhrers phone without him noticing (When they had asked from him how

the hell did he do it, he had just smiled slyly and said, 'profession secrets aren't meant to anyone's ears mates') and he had heard Fuhrers call to the military's strike

forces. Immediately after that he had called Mustang, who had driven from his atelier to his mansion. He had arrived just in time to open the door and look surprised as

he was pushed aside by the soldiers that began to run around his house, attempting to dig up every skeleton hidden in the many closets of the house.

They had found nothing indicating that Mustang would be taking part in some military opposing acts, and Roys smug trademark smirk had made them even angrier. Their

leader, a mousy, thin man named Rastov, had looked as if he had been hit with a burning baseball bat on the face when he found Roys old uniform; neatly folded and ironed as if ready for use.

Newspaper had of course been chiming from joy when they 'accidentally' found out and Mustang been pulled to the spotlights behind from the curtains. He had

been questioned about how he felt about being mistook as the famous other Flame, and he had answered with a secretive smile and " I don't mind being with such

a great guy as long as they don't claim that his looks are better than mine!"

Hawkeye hadn't approved.

That had been few years ago.

For few months now, Roy hadn't been able to paint anything. He didn't just feel like it.

'This sucks' Mustang noted in his thoughts 'Why could it be that anything I try to paint can never come finished? And if I manage to finish something,

the colors look dull and the composition doesn't just work!' He groaned and

massaged his temples tiredly.

He had been trying to get something ready for his second exhibition for weeks and weeks. The final deadline would be in just couple months, for he had Already

changed it for twice and couldn't afford third. He was sick of this lack of inspiration, that kept him from painting. He was sick of it to death and bored to boot.

Bored of sitting here, instead of being on the field, chasing criminals or something. Anything.

He sighed. Of course this had been for the best. Mr Ho had warned him from returning to the military too soon, told him to keep few years break or something. Ho though he was a doctor, working to military, didn't understand that taking a longer holiday would be the same as resigning. Things changed quickly through the years

and Fuhrer wouldn't have just wasted the opportunity to extinguish the Flame off his tail.

Then he'd came up with this madness of a plan. It worked, yes, but if he had just known how boring it would be...

Bored?

Mustang rose his head from his hands and stared for a moment at his unfinished painting. The fire from the candles mirrored in his eyes, giving them golden, distant glow.

That was it! He had started painting when he was mentally down. Hadn't someone said that from the pain sprouts

inspiration or something? That had been that

artist with that weird hat, yes. He had met her once, in some party a long time ago.

Nothing tragic nor happy had happened in his life for a long time. Actually his life had been even more boring than watching the same bad movie over and over

again.

He jumped out of his chair, his thoughts running around from one place to another, from some person to someone else…

Why the hell hadn't he thought that before? His boredom had became obvious to him, that it had become oblivious. Can't see the forest for the trees.

He stopped in the middle of the room.

Tomorrow would be a whole new day. He would go walk through the town, for a start, and look for inspiration. He was already fed of this dark room, that smelled like turpentine and old wood. And people, he had noticed, were a good source of inspiration, and there was none but himself in this room.

'I could as well go for a walk now too' Mustang pondered turning his gaze to the front door. ' I could probably grab a drink while I'm at it, I haven't done that for a long time neither. And maybe I would meet some nice woman…' He smirked. He hadn't even gone for a date for… what, two months?

He took his coat and stuffed his ignition gloves on it's pocket (you never knew when you needed them), grabbed his keys from the near door table, opened the door and stoop in to the cold, short corridor that lead to the stairs that would get him to the street level.

His apartment was on the attic. He loved it, 'cause there lived no one on the two next corridors below it, so no loud voices would bother him when he painted. On the first two floors there lived few families and some people that lived alone.

He walked down the stairs, sliding his hand down the plastic railing on the left side of the stairs. It was quiet, only his lonely, soft steps echoed on the bare white walls of the stairway.

Mustang reached the first floor and walked the last stairs to the door. He opened it, stepping out in to the cool night air.

He drew in the sweet scent of rain, still lingering on the streets and brushed few strands of hair off from his eyes.

Whistling, coat casually hanging from his shoulder Roy started walking.

He easily avoided all the pools of water, wind ruffling his short hair. It was autumn, a dark and rainy one. Just as Mustang loved it.

Roy felt good, it wasn't too cold nor to warm, it was a beautiful crescent moon, he was on his way to his favorite bar and probably he would find some company to at least talk to. Who knows?

If he had just known…

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So how was it? puppy eying everyone

I know I know, Mustang's plan is crazy. I can't but wonder how he ever came up with something as stupid as that! (Negais inner voice: Yeah, no wonder it's idiotic, my twisted imagination made it up.) I wish you'll live it. I'm aching to continue this, I have lots of ideas, good or not, but I love writing so I'll keep posting my trash here.

Oh and the ending was such a cliché that I'm shamed of myself. Boo hoo hoo. snort

Really, I think it will take time for me to update, school and such, but rewievers always fasten it 3 So sweeties, sing your comments with your keyboard!

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	2. Something he didn’t see coming

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I apologize, I forgot to say this on the first chapter

I own nothing in this but the idiotic plot of this little fic and the group of drunks and all the other random characters appearing. Nor do I own the song at the end. "To the End" (sounds funny 8D) Is a song by My chemical romance, which I love. The band is great and the song is one of my favourites. And so is the song Ghost of You, not mine!If I would own Fullmetal alchemist, I would be filthy rich and would not write this on a damn old computer that tilts about three times a day. Actually I wouldn't be writing this at all.

Now that that is clear...

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Chapter 2: Something he didn't see coming even with spyglass

Life is unfair, so live with it.

That was what Edward Elric had said for first time six years ago. Now he was sixteen and still had a habit of saying it once in a while when some drunk came crying to him when he was on the serving sift about how their life sucked. He if someone had a right to say it.

Absentmindedly he leaned on the bar-table, rubbing a large glass with a rag that looked like it had seen better days. His eyes, like two pools of melted gold, gazed into sweet emptiness, that any other man had called the surface of a table.

" Hey small fry, pass me one margarita, will ya?" A random unaware customer shouted over the music to him.

That's the point where Edward snapped out of her thoughts

" WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING SO FUCKING SMALL THAT YOU WOULDN'T NOTICE HIM EVEN WITH THE SHARPEST MICROSCOPE THAT THERE IS EVEN IF HE WOULD BE JUMPING AND FLAILING A SIGN THOUSANDS OF TIMES BIGGER THAN HIM THAT SAYS 'I'M STANDING HERE' ?" He screamed, shaking from fury , barely keeping himself from throwing the rag along the glass at the other man.

The customer sobbed something about 'not needing the margarita anymore' and backed off, being unable to decide whatever he should run away screaming or laugh

Customers sitting on the bar chairs weren't unaffected by Ed's little tantrum. Few of them just coughed on their fist, trying to hide their amusement. They were the bars constant customers, that had already gotten used to this little blondes temper tantrums whenever anyone commented his height – especially the lack of it-.

" Edo-chan, calm down already. It's not his fault that ye are so much err… height-limited that you can be called-"

" Shut it Seno, or soon you will be using a hospital constantly." The blonde hissed, tossing his long braid over his shoulder tentatively, then bringing his hands close to each other as if he was going to clap them.

Red haired Seno rose his hands up in gesture of surrendering, smiling sheepishly. "Now, now sweety, I was just kidding. And you should spare that angelic voice of yours for tonights show. You are singing today aren't you?"

Blonde calmed down a little, continuing to wipe away invisible dirt from the glass. " Yes I am, after an hour. Actually I should be going already, but oh well, I'll go soon, just a little while…" His voice trailed off, as his bright eyes begun to blur again as he lost himself in the well of his thoughts.

"Ohhh, you want to spend more time with us eh? That is soooo cute!" Meira, a blonde woman that was obviously drunk, slurred. "I don't think it's like that, though I think if it were anyone else, they'd really like to spend more time with ye" Seno smiled to the woman. " I'm sure he is waiting for someone!" he said a little too loudly to Meira, the thought that Ed would hear not quite getting any response in his alcohol numbed head.

"And who would I be waiting for?" Edward said so poisonously, that it was a miracle that everyone in the room didn't die because of it. "Hmm, who could it be? Who could Edo-chan be waiting for? Ideas, anyone?" Seno asked from all the customers sitting on the bar stools.

"A friend?" "his boss?" "some relative?" "sister?" "brother?" At that point Edward stiffened, for a moment, but none of them noted it. "oh, maybe girlfriend?" "or a boyfriend?"

"What are you implying!" Edward half shouted at Soyta, a brunette man that was happily piercing an olive from his drink. "Well, my little song bird, it's a possibility. " "I'm not gay! I know definetly that I'm perfectly straight as this line here-" He drew fastly a line on the chalkboard behind him (accidentally over-lining 'Welcome') "- and I can't understand Why you would think OTHERWISE!"

Everyone stared at him.

"What!" He huffed, blood rushing to his cheeks. The whole gang on the bar stools burst out laughing uncontrollably and nothing that Ed shouted at them made them stop, before their drunken minds had decided it wasn't all that fun anymore.

"What you ask?" Soyta said, smiling. " Look behind you." Edward turned around furiously and fell silent as he noticed the line that he had drawn. If it could be called a line.

He had drawn it firstly, clearly diagonally and it accidentally connected with two other lines that had been some stupid decoration idea to the board by their boss. Now it was a perfect triangle.

"It's not THAT funny you bastards!" He hissed. "It's not, but we are drunk." Seno exclaimed. " Good point." Meira slurred cheerily, lifting her glass from the table to her lips again.

" It's a straight line if you look at it like this…or if your eyes are not quite right" A blonde man named Tim said, tilting his head. " But you know, almost every gay human have a season of denial at some point" He rose his thumb up and grinned to Ed.

" Hey wait just a second you-" " One scotch please shrimp, if you will." Edward turned around, his mind going through all the most painful ways to serve someone a scotch (and believe me, he knew lots of ways), to meet a sight that you didn't see every day.

A handsome, tall man had silently slipped inside and sat casually on the free chair next to Meira. Wind had ruffled his raven hair into a big mess, but that scruffy look made him look like a god fallen from heavens. His features were sharp and his eyes like two pools of liquorice, darker than the night on the other side of the window.

He was wearing a plain white collar shirt, from which he had left few of the top buttons open. His black pants were casual and a jacket was neatly folded in his lap.

" Shrimp? You would think that someone so tiny as you would find such loud voices as speaking louder than normal sized people. " He said, a smirk forming on his lips.

" WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT YOU CAN'T TALK NORMALLY NEXT TO HIM 'CAUSE YOUR BREATH WOULD BLOW HIM TWO HUNDRED MILES AWAY AND YOU'D NEVER FIND HIM AGAIN!" Even Roy Mustang couldn't help but look a bit dazed after hearing Ed's rant for the first time. But unlike the latest customer, he had no intention to run away, actually he was rather enjoying the foul temper of the blond bar tender.

" Calm down, calm down. If you would now do a _small_ favor for me and pass me that scotch I would be really, really honored." He mock bowed to Edward from his seat, the boy fuming like a tea pan that has been on the hot plate for hours. Just as the boy had opened his mouth to say something that would make any mother near him want to make him eat soap so that it would come out of his ears, a strong hand fell on his shoulder.

" Ed, It's your turn soon. Aneka is already waiting for you." A tall, dark red haired man wearing a black leather jacket said to the blonde that looked ridiculously small next to his boss. "But boss-" "No buts. I see you are very attracted to our customer-" Roy smirked and Ed snorted un-approvingly " but you'll be late if you won't go now. So you better hurry up, I'll tend the customers."

The drunk group 'awwed' in choir when grumpy Ed tossed his braid for the one last time to his back and stormed away, through the blood-red pearl door curtain.

" Now mister Mustang, what was it that you ordered?" The man asked casually from dark haired man. " Scotch, thank you." He smiled.

"What?" " Did I hear 'Mustang'?" "Isn't that a car?" "A horsiee!" " What are doing here Mister?"

Roy smiled to the group slyly. " What do you do in the bars normally?" He asked from them.

" Dance cancan on the table with a pink pumpkin on your hands?" " Sing Ring around a rosie with a mop?" "Get totally wasted cuz your life sucks?" "Grab a drink?" "Shoot spaghetti from your nose?"

"Grab a drink would be the right answer in my case." He smiled to Meira, who had said it. "Aww, but how come you came to this pub and not any else?" "I happened to be near by, so I just dropped in." He shrugged, receiving his drink from the 'boss'. " and of course I could almost feel the power of beauty radiating from this building, from all these lovely ladies here tonight." Meira and all the other women on the table awwed and blushed, while the guys just rolled their eyes and looked sour.

" Hey Warden, when's Edward gonna do his thingiepingie?" Chara, bright red headed woman asked from the bar tender at the time with a deep, sweet voice.

" Oh quite soon. About in five minutes." He responded, tidying the bottles on the stand behind the bar desk.

"Edward was that blond from earlier wasn't he?" " Yup, that foul tempered little creature." Soyta said whirling the glass in his hand, so that the emerald liquid almost splashed over the edges. "Hm, what is he gonna do? Give us a lecture of why we shouldn't treat height-lacking people bad?" " Oh you'll see" Meira said with a smirk on her lips.

Roy sipped his drink, glancing once in a while on the stage on his left side, on the middle of the most furthest wall. There were already people crowding next to it. Mustang cocked an eyebrow. He hadn't seen coming that this little blond who couldn't possibly be of the proper age, would have 'fans'.

He couldn't but wonder what Edward would do. Do stand-up comic? Rant? Sing?

He mentally snorted. It seemed quite unlikely that there would be any voice left in that pipsqueak after his ranting. Roy couldn't picture him doing anything like that at all.

Suddenly the lights went off. First he thought it was a blown fuse or something, but then a spotlight flashed on. In to the spot stepped a asian looking woman. She was wearing a short, black miniskirt and a even shorter red (text on it saying "take that Mary sue!") shirt. Her black hair was on two ponytails and in her glowed hand she was holding a microphone.

" Greetings people! It's midnight, you know what it means, dontcha?" she stated. " You know this little-" "growling from the backstage" " -height-limited blonde with temper as short as-" clear of something that sounded expensive smashing. "Fine, FINE! Without no further introduction I present to you the famous... the undeniably handsome… the dangerous"

"Metal heart!"

Applauding and screaming from the crowd. Roy couldn't but wonder when had all this people sneaked here and what could be so interesting about-

His brains forgot to think the sentence to it's end when he saw the slim figure walking to the spotlight.

Edwards long, shiny hair was down, sprouting from under a tophat slightly curled up from the end. Like spinned gold. He was wearing loose black jacket open, which left his chest bear. His pants were tight and black, hanging dangerously from his hips being kept up by a rivit-belt and he was wearing black converse, with check inside.

He walked casually to the middle of the stage, where Aneka gave him the microphone and walked out of the spotlight. Roy noticed that he was wearing make up, some eyeliner and mascara along with crimson eye shadow. First he was quite startled with this, not being able to picture the rashly acting half-a-man to even consider such a thing. Maybe he didn't decide from it though.

"Mustang, I have no intention of being rude, but I would advice you to close your jaw. Ignoring how stunning our little Edo-chan looks." Meira giggled from his side. Without a word Roy closed his trap, feeling completely embarassed. He wasn't swooning at the kid. This had just been… unexpected.

Suddenly few other spotlights flashed on behind him. On one of them was Aneka, behind a keyboard. On the guitar was a skinny man with red Mohawk and tartan pants. The other guitar player was a pink haired girl with a blackwhite lace-skirt and a corset. Drummer was a bald man wearing a plain striped shirt.

Oh. So he really was going to sing.

Drummer played the first few rhythms and then it started.

"He calls the mansion not a house, but a tomb,  
He's always choking from the stench and the fume,  
The wedding party all collapsed in the room,  
So send my resignation to the bride and the groom"

He sang with a beautiful voice, that Mustang had never believed to be able to come out of this rash young man. His eyes were half open and he was smiling seductively.

"Let's go down!  
This elevator only goes up to ten,  
He's not around,  
He's always looking at men.  
Down by the pool,  
He doesn't have many friends,  
As they are,  
Face down and bloated  
snap a shot with the lens!

If you marry me,  
Would you bury me?  
Would you carry me,  
To the end?

(Say goodbye)  
To the vows you take,  
(Say goodbye)  
To the life you make,  
(Say goodbye)  
To the hearts you break,  
And all the cyanide that you drank.

Mohawk and pink haired girl played their guitars like you could think some big rock band members would and Mustang noticed that Aneka had her own microphone next to her keyboard. She was singing too, but Edward was clearly the leader.

"She keeps a picture of the body she lends,  
Got nasty blisters from the money she spends,  
She's got a life of her own and it shows by the Benz,  
She drives at 90 by the Barbies and Kens!"

Edward half walked half danced with the rhythm from the left to right, so that he could pay attention to his listeners on both sides. Roy noticed that he was being photographed by a giddy group of fangirls, but he didn't seem to mind at all. He just smiled to them charmingly when he could.

"If you ever say never too late,  
I'll forget all the diamonds you ate.  
Lost in coma and covered in cake,  
Increase the medication,  
Share the vows at the wake!  
If you marry me,  
Would you bury me?  
Would you carry me,  
To the end..."

But he noticed that though Edward was acting confidently and as if everything was okay, his eyes gave it away if you really looked at them.

His eyes were of an unusual color, Mustang had never seen anything quite like them. Like two orbs of sun. Two suns that had some how lost their shine, and made them look hopeless like a sun that had been behind clouds for weeks and weeks.

And they said a persons eyes were a mirror of truth.

(Say goodbye)  
To the vows you take,  
(And say goodbye)  
To the life you make,  
(And say goodbye)  
To the hearts you break,  
And all the cyanide that you drank.

To the last parade,  
When the parties fade,  
And the choice you made,  
To the end…"

Edward ended, with his eyes closed. Roy couldn't help but stare at him. Edwards hair was a mess after all that jumping and dancing on the stage, but it actually made him look even better. There was not many persons –beside himself- that he knew could pull off that.

" Havin' a great time me dear people?" Edward asked as the applauding and screaming had faded. A loud 'Yessss' was heard. " That's good to hear." He smirked " I wish that so is my next song too..."

" It's called 'Ghost of you'." He stated, the fangirls screaming and flailing their arms like crazies.

" What's with those people? A moment ago they were hyper, now it's as if they had eaten batteries or something! You's think all that jumping would have drained some energy out of them." Mustang said as the song started to Meira.

"It's rock Mustang. Rock" Mustang cocked an eyebrow and Meira rolled her eyes, still smiling. " You know, you should go out a lil' bit more. This chicks are his fans, as nuts as it sounds, they come here every nite just to 'im! And you know..." She turned her profile to Roy. " That is the first song he ever sang. I guess they know it or somethin', or who knows."

" Kind of interesting choice for a first song, eh?" He sipped his drink. " Oh it's not." "Why not?" " Wow, you are some curious creature aren't cha?" She laughed, leaning on the table. " It's not me place to speak, you'll hafta get it out of himself if you wanna. I don't even know if anythin' I've heard is true. But" She nodded to the stage, where Edward was singing.

"-Ever...  
Get the feeling that you're never  
All alone and I remember now  
At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies  
She dies-'"

" Isn't it just perfect?" Her eyes were watery and she turned away from Mustang to watch Edward sing. "Yes... perfect." Roy said absentmindedly, letting the flowing stream of the ballad fill him. It was beautiful, so beautiful and so...

WHAM

The door bursted open and a tall, bearded man with a bottle in his hand stoop in. Behind him were few other drunken looking men, that looked somehow familiar to Mustang.

The room fell dead silent at the sudden loud sound and cold wind.

" What's with the long faces mates?" He threw the bottle in to the door, it shattering in to thousands of pieces that scattered on the floor. He took a knife from his pant pocket and smiled barbarically as he dug some little chaff out of his cavities with it.

"You having a problem with me?" The man more asked than stated walking further in to the room, his comrades following him like petdogs.

Then it clicked to Mustang.

That man was a criminal that had done the famous serial-murders, that had earned him the name 'Bar-painter'. It had been given to him 'cause all the walls at that bar he had attacked, had in the end been as if painted red with blood. And his victims he had neatly chopped and deep-freezed them.

He had been convicted a death sentence years ago, but apparently even that hadn't stopped him. Roy remembered it 'cause he had known one of Bar-painters aka Rada Whitehouses victims and been on the lawsuit. He had also been on the team that had caught Rada, though not many knew of it.

Roy scowled at the man, his fist clenching in to a tight ball.

Now this was troublesome.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.--.-.--.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.

cliffhanger! 8DDDD

Thank you all my reviewers for making me feel bad for not writing this. It forced me to find time to write and I wish you like the outcome. curtseys Thank you very much dearies. 3 I'm quite busy right now with the school and stuff, so the next chappie will too take some time to be ready. shrug I'll try my best though!

Negai


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